I discovered
William F. Buckley, Jr. in the late 1980s as an undergraduate at the University of Pittsburgh, where I was a pre-med student
preparing for a career in organ transplantation. I had been bit by the political
bug. It was a consequence of the times: the Reagan years, the end of the Cold
War, tumultuous changes in the world. I soon found myself blowing off my
Genetics exam to feed a growing obsession with politics, reading every newspaper
I could get my hands on, and digging through microfiche to satiate a newfound
infatuation with the Cold War.

I was also discovering I was a
conservative. And it was that growing ideological realization that prompted me
one day to ask my father where I could go to find a conservative magazine. Did
such a publication exist? He responded without hesitation: “Buckley’s magazine.”
I replied, “Buckley’s magazine? What’s that?” My dad answered: “National
Review.”

I hopped in the car and headed
to Walden Books at Clearview Mall in Butler, Pennsylvania. I found it—National
Review. I couldn’t put it down. There was nothing else like it—nothing. The
quality of the writing, the material, the insights, the intellect, the logic,
the common-sense thinking combined with erudition, the overall smartness. I read
it cover to cover, including the articles I didn’t understand. I allowed the
thing to teach me. Malcolm Muggeridge, who’s he? I read and learned. I
was enthralled.

That magazine led me in the
direction of an entirely different field of study, to where I ended up a
professor teaching and writing about those very issues and ideas.

Yet, Buckley impacted me more
than that, even though I never met the man. I recall one day almost 10 years ago
when I was meeting with Lee Edwards, another leader of the conservative
movement, who was at Grove
City College to do research for a history of
the college. I told Lee about the book I wanted to write on Reagan and the end
of the Cold War, and how I needed some funding to be able to go to the Reagan
Library to do research. Lee suggested I put together a brief proposal, noting
his endorsement, and send it to a small, under-the-radar foundation begun by
Buckley to support projects like these by young conservative academics. I did
just that, and received a check shortly thereafter. It ultimately led to two
books on Reagan, God and Ronald Reagan and The Crusader. When I
sent Buckley a copy of the manuscript for the first book, he responded with a
short note, dated May 22, 2002, offering a nugget of advice on where to publish
the work before closing, “I’m glad the little foundation was helpful in getting
this done.”

He was helpful in a yet deeper
way. Though I do not want to overstate this, I can honestly say that Buckley,
and more specifically, his magazine, had a profound effect on me spiritually.
When I began reading National Review I was an agnostic, having abandoned
the faith of my upbringing. Like many young folks at major secular universities,
especially in the hard sciences, I had forsaken the God of Scripture for the
idols of evolution, secularism, nihilism, and all the wasteful, destructive
idiocy that saturates the tragic insanity of modern academia. I had come to
National Review through an interest in politics, but soon discerned that
these brilliant writers, whom I respected so much, just happened to be
Christians who seamlessly integrated their religion into their politics—faith
with reason, Christianity with conservatism. They fit beautifully. This set me
on a path to the Christian faith. I will not proclaim that William F. Buckley,
Jr. and National Review “saved my soul,” but they no doubt led me in the
right direction.

Lastly, on a slightly bitter
note, I’m offended—but not surprised—by the conservative outlets who have barely
acknowledged Buckley’s death. They are sadly symptomatic of a culture that lives
strictly in the here and now, where only something new is deemed newsworthy, and
only then for a few minutes. Do these conservatives not know that they stand not
only Buckley’s shoulders but in his shadow? He was their forerunner, the voice
in the wilderness long before their existence was considered tolerable let alone
possible. He never made the mistake of being defined by the moment, which is why
he was the quintessential conservative.

William F. Buckley, Jr. and
the movement he founded transcended a single news cycle and even a single
generation. He stood astride America yelling “stop” for over 50
years. Now, let us pause to honor him with his due respect.

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